


Fighting Back

by keztion



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), The Secret World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keztion/pseuds/keztion
Summary: This is a crossover between Dead by Daylight and an MMO called 'Secret World Legends'. This is just a bit of self indulgence, enjoying the idea of having a Secret Worlder end up inside the Entity's realm.As a head's up, there is going to be some violence in this, but will be about as graphic as Dead by Daylight is. My intent isn't to gross people out with details, but if I need to add the Graphic Depictions of Violence tag to this work then please let me know!As a head's up, I've interpreted SWL such that player characters end up mute after gaining their powers. Mostly because NPCs in the game comment on the lack of spoken responses frequently.





	1. Tamarak and the Huntress

The world feels like Anima’s dreams. The fog presses in around him while he sits silently by the fire and observes the other people here. Tamarak feels naked without his weapons, but when he awoke to the sounds of shrill arguing they had been nowhere to be seen.

He hadn’t said anything, watching the others around him alternate between rocking back and forth while whimpering in panic and arguing with each other. Idly he wondered if Rayn, Umbras or Ionis had ended up here as well. If there were other campfires, other places to go.

The people around the campfire were obviously not Secret Worlders. If nothing else, they didn’t have the telltale muteness of Gaia’s chosen. Though they had toolboxes, medkits, flashlights and maps it seemed that none of them had weapons either. Tam had done his best to keep his hood up to conceal the filth stains on his face and his grey sclera because the way these folks spoke it sounded like they hadn’t even been in the real world for the Tokyo event. If they were ignorant of the supernal beyond this strange nightmare plane he wanted to avoid any dramatics or suspicion.

Eventually a young man, wearing glasses and reeking of old blood, approached him.

“I-I’m Dwight, I’d s-say welcome to Hell but uh…”

Tamarak snorted a bit while taking the shaking hand that had been offered to him. He had been to Hell. There was too much greenery here to be Hell.

Slightly taken aback by his reaction, Dwight paused before squaring his shoulders and continuing:

“Soon, probably real soon, there’s going to be a path open up in the woods. W-when it does w-w-we gotta go okay? Four people at the most, but we gotta go”

Tam made a show of nodding to show he understood the order, but tilted his head as if to ask why.

“There’s a… thing here… It’s what brought us all here. It makes us do the trials… that’s where we go. We go to do the trials… there’s going to be a uh… You’re going to think I’m nuts here, but there’s going to be a monster”

A monster huh? Tamarak frowned while the man continued to speak, doing his best to hide his frustration at no longer being able to talk.

“It’s not always the same Killer… but the point is, we gotta find generators during the trial. Fix up five of them and then it powers exit gates, we go to those and we uh… Well, we open them and escape… Then we come back here to the fire and just… well”

“We wait like fucking cowards until it rips us back out again and sets us up for more torture”, the bitter anger was spat from a red head across the fire. She had been pacing back and forth like a caged animal, hissing curses for the last few hours.

‘Torture?’, Tam wanted to say. Dwight had said there were monsters, but he hadn’t really explained what happened beyond their objective.

Before he could write the question in the dirt below him, Tamarak heard a strange shuffling noise in the woods beyond the fire, as if a gust of wind was passing through. Dwight, the redhead and a woman Tamarak had heard the others call Claudette slowly rose. They all looked to be in various stages of nausea and Tamarak nervously stood to go with them.

Whatever it was the monsters did, it seemed it was a lot worse than just killing these people. He wondered if Gaia’s power extended to this place, or was he as easy to damage as when he had been mortal? 

Well, he considered, there was really only way to find out. 

It couldn’t be any worse than having his legs cut off over and over again. Or being ripped apart by giant claws, or having swords slice at him. Or being blown up, or falling off a moving train….

Come to think of it, he had taken quite a few licks in his time. Tamarak faintly smiled as he followed the others into the mist. For a moment he was reminded of Tyler Freeborn, of the filth mind space… of John. The shiver that ran through him almost made him stumble and suddenly Tam felt less at ease.

Whatever this thing was that had captured him in the Transylvanian woods… was it as bad as John?

Tamarak was the tank. He took hits and followed orders. Fighting faceless entities was usually something he left up to the higher ranking members of the Dragon.

Without his weapons, possibly without any of his powers, could he kill whatever was here?

The strange sound of wind running through the trees sounded behind him and Tamarak turned in curiosity, only to find himself face to face with a brick wall that certainly hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Well then.

Bracing himself for a change, Tamarak turned again to find that yes, indeed, the world had definitely shifted while he had realized he was blocked off from escape.

The others were gone and all Tam could see was a sprawling cornfield. In the distance a barn seemed to slump and sulk while a rickety shed was off to his left. To his right was a hay baler and several cylinders of the stuff, thought Tamarak couldn’t see anywhere nearby that the stuff could have been grown.

Set pieces, maybe. Just a bunch of stuff to fit a theme. A weird copy made by something that didn’t quite know what any of this should look like. Or maybe it had been so long since it had been human that it was just going by memory.

Maybe this was like Nathaniel Winters with his awful fairground.

Figuring he should make himself useful he started to move, heading towards the hay baler to see if one of the previously mentioned generators was near it. He had seen one off in the cornfield, but the man didn’t fancy going into the middle of the arena when he had no idea what he was doing. As he moved he heard a strange sound in the distance. Was that someone… singing?

Perhaps it was the monster, it didn’t sound at all like either of the women who had gone into the forest.

Sounded pretty human for a monster, but Dwight had also called them killers. Tamarak had met his fair share of human monsters. Humans were, at least in his limited experience, easier to kill than big nasty monsters. He had found a generator during his musing and Tamarak dutifully knelt down and worked at trying to start the thing. As it slowly grumbled to life it began to make an awful racket but Tamarak persisted. The more of the pistons that started to move, the better he felt about attaching belts and bringing wires together.

A few minutes in he heard a strange clink some ways to his left and some lights started to glow faintly in the distance. Looking up at the lights above his own generator Tamarak grinned. Someone else must have been working on one as well.

The same noise sounded from his generator a few moments later and Tamarak rose to continue moving, only to pause in confusion as the humming he had been hearing suddenly became accompanied by the pounding sound of a heartbeat in his ears. As the tempo increased Tam curiously checked his own pulse. Nope, definitely wasn’t him- what the fuck was she wearing?

A woman, well someone with a womanly figure, rounded the corner in front of him. She stood easily two feet taller than him and was wearing the weirdest looking rabbit mask he had seen.

This coming from the guy who had recently been dealing with that serial killer who wore a schoolgirl outfit and a bunny mascot head. Somehow, giant lady with an axe, overalls and a bunny mask was weirder.

She only paused a moment, as if surprised he wasn’t running, before she raised a smaller hatchet over her head and threw it at him.

The flash of pain was familiar as the axe lodged in his shoulder, but thankfully it felt like it normally did when he was hurt. Wondering how sentient these killers were, Tamarak felt a grin pull across his face as his hand rose to remove the axe.

This? This wasn’t torture. This was a joke.

He calmly pulled the weapon out of his shoulder. There was a moment of sadness when he realized he couldn’t use it to channel his powers, but he held the axe firmly and met the oily black eyes of the woman in front of him.

That mask looked an awful like a chaos focus, now that the adrenaline was helping him think. His mana knit the flesh in his shoulder together and Tamarak, with all the confidence of a man who had suffered death multiple times, started to move towards the woman.

Apparently, this was a new development for the thing. Her singing stopped and suddenly her large axe was being brandished. He heard a soft hiss as he continued to move forward and the masked killer started to move backwards as Tam moved forward.

‘Oh c’mon darlin, I just want that mask of yours. After that you can axe me any questions you’d like’, once more he idly wished he could talk. One liners were really what would make things epic in his line of work.

The woman in front of him tensed and then, quick as any other predator, she rushed forward. As her axe swung Tamarak moved to the side, reaching to grab the veil and the mask from her face. It slid off easily, revealing closely cropped brown hair and strangely delicate features for a woman so large and strong.

Rather than wait to meet her new fury, Tamarak hurled the hatchet at the woman’s newly exposed face and ran as fast as he could while clutching his prize.

It wasn’t his lovely augmented sprint, it seemed that his supernatural speeds were limited here. However, even as he ran he felt the spark of magic in the mask. Yes, he grinned, this would do nicely as a prize.

Another two clinks had sounded during his stare down with the killer, meaning there was only one generator to be done. The pounding of blood in his ears felt strange and alien, definitely not his own. It signalled, he supposed, that the woman was chasing him. Not that he needed such a warning, her howls of fury were plenty indication that he had broken the expected rules of this twisted game. Deftly the young man hopped through an open window into the barn house. He nearly stopped, the smell of rotting meat so sweet and thick in the air that he gagged.

The entity couldn’t figure out the difference between hay and corn, but it got the smell of rotting meat down to an art?

It really wasn’t the time he sternly thought as he skidded around a corner, hopped through another window and then held still and quiet. The woman’s screaming hadn’t stopped, but it seemed she couldn’t find her quarry. Tam could hear her furiously ripping open door after door of red lockers that he had seen inside the barn.

Perhaps the lockers were something provided for the humans to hide in. Tamarak had been disinclined to open any, figuring there would be more rotting meat waiting for him. Feeling the heartbeat in his ears fade, Tam ripped the veil that was attached to the mask before looping it around his back and over one shoulder. Tying the split veil to his chest, allowing it to sit in a diagonal over one shoulder so that it wouldn’t fall off, Tamarak grinned once more as the mask settled on his back. His hands started to glow that lovely chaotic mix of green and purple.

It wasn’t his shotgun, but it was a helluva lot better than nothing.

Suddenly another clink resounded through the arena and Tamarak turned in confusion when a howl rang out. It could have been a wolf, but it was strangely mechanical. Two boxes lit up in his vision on different sides of the world, apparently he could briefly see them through physical objects as he looked at one while knowing he was facing a wall. He stood and made his way towards the closer of the two. These must be the gates that Dwight had mentioned. Which meant escape, which meant he would likely have some answering to do once they got back. He doubted he could hide the mask, nor would he be able to explain the change in the woman. Her singing had been pretty consistent before he took her mask, maybe it was something she always did?

As he approached what was now definitely one of the exit gates, Tamarak saw Dwight standing by it, holding down some kind of lever. More waiting, Tam guessed. More opportunities to get attacked. From where he was approaching he could see Claudette and the other girl hiding by a wall.

Tam could also see the killer, hatchet raised, moving towards them. She was quiet now, but the others didn’t seem aware of her. Possibly too used to hearing her song as a warning, they seemed to be relaxing with relief.

He couldn’t call out. He couldn’t warn them. Tamarak started to run forward, determination starting to set his face into an angry frown.

Nobody else should get hurt. He was the tank.

The gate mechanism made an atrociously loud buzzer noise and the gate started to open. Dwight and the red head had slipped through and were running away but Claudette had stopped. She had turned around and, seeing him running towards her had waved her hands in a ‘come here’ motion.

Too late. He was too late. The hatchet flew through the air and hit the young woman. The shriek of pain and shock was loud and Tamarak flung out a desperate hand as he saw the killer approach a now crouching Claudette with her larger axe preparing to swing.

The satisfaction he felt as a green chain flew from his hand, latching itself to the axe wielding bitch, was beyond anything he could imagine. He stopped, digging his feet in and PULLED.

Scratch that, the satisfaction of the woman’s cry of disbelief as she flew through the air to smack into a tree by him was substantially better. Tamarak ran by, pulling Claudette up as quickly as he could and moving them both towards the forest ahead. They didn’t stop running until Tamarak stopped hearing the angry shrieks behind him.

 

* * *

 

Claudette, bless her, had been jubilant when they paused. She had thrown her arms around him and started to laugh. Laughter quickly turned to sobbing, but Tamarak had held her close before pushing her away to check her wounds.

Only to find the gash to be completely gone. Her clothes weren’t even torn.

“Oh no, you cannot look that confused that I am fine after the shit you just pulled. Literally pulled! How did you do that?”, the woman sniffed, rubbing her tear stained face against a filthy sleeve. He sighed before motioning to the ground and spelling out a word in the dirt:   
MAGIC

“Well yes, blue boy, I figured that out. What did you pick up that let you do magic?”   
Frowning at her easy acceptance of the answer, Tam untied the mask on his back and showed it to her.

Claudette scrambled backwards, her eyes bugging out of her skull as she stared at the mask.   
“That’s why… that’s why she wasn’t wearing it… How the fuck did you pull that off blue boy? Why aren’t you talking?”   
CAN’T   
“Can’t talk? Or can’t tell me how you pulled it off?”, she huffed in annoyance before shaking her head, “It doesn’t matter. Maybe both are true”   
She eyes him warily now and the look of suspicion was like meeting an old friend. He saw that look everywhere he went. The sheriff's eyes in Kingsmouth, the bartender in Al-Maraya, the vampire hunter in Transylvania. It was the look of someone who needed his help but did not trust where his power came from.

It would be pointless to try and explain it all, but he wrote something more informative:   
LOST SPEECH, GOT MAGIC. BEFORE HERE.   
Nodding wordlessly, Claudette rose and held out her hand.   
“Well magic boy, you might just be our way out of here, if the entity doesn’t kill you for fucking up one of his killers”   
Tam grabbed her hand and allowed her to help him stand. Their arms stayed locked as they started to move again, and soon the glow of the communal fire shone before them.   
“Do you want me to tell them? I don’t know how long it’ll take them to notice”, her words were quiet in his ear and Tamarak smiled at her in gratitude.   
This one was good. Or perhaps just loyal, but regardless he wanted to try and keep her safe.   
Stupid tank tendencies, part of him cursed. As they sat by the fire he wrote in the dirt once more:   
GO AHEAD

The reactions around the fire were a mix of fear and wary hope. The oldest among them, a grizzled old man who wore the clothing of a soldier, said and did nothing at the news. Tam wondered if the man, Bill, had brushed with the Secret World before.   
It was unlikely, but who knew.

Everyone had taken turns introducing themselves, talking a bit about who they had been before the entity had taken them. They were all substantially more friendly now that he had saved one of their own. Or maybe because now he was something to be afraid of. Claudette recounted how he had sent the ghostly chain whipping around the Huntress, which was apparently what they called the woman, before pulling her away from Claudette. How the two of them had had enough time to flee while the Huntress lay stunned.

Finally Tamarak left the edge of the fire to lie down. He didn’t sleep often, but the strangeness of this place was tiring. Maybe here John would leave him alone.


	2. Tamarak and the Doctor

Trials are unpopular. Complete surprising, of course, Tamarak thinks with grim sarcasm. The four of them had gotten out mostly unscathed, but apparently the Huntress was one of the kinder killers. Sure, she hunted you down like a dog and then stuck you on a meat hook to be devoured by an elder god, but she was usually efficient about it.  
  
Apparently there were other killers who were not so quick. He hadn’t pressed for more details as Claudette had started to gently rock in a subconscious attempt to soothe herself. She was a few years younger than him technically, but before this she had been half way through a biology degree and working at the local grocery store to pay the bills.  
The forest had opened again and the survivors were arguing over who should go. Apparently one of them thought that Claudette, Meg, Dwight and himself should go again, since none of them had had to suffer the Entity’s torture

He has already risen and turned to leave. Conflict like this makes him uneasy. He’s too used to the fluid exchange of knowledge, ideas and commands that flows betweens Gaia’s chosen.  
‘Our wisdom flows so sweet, taste and see’. Even when there was discord between his teammates it was silent, just a jarring note in his head. The sound of raised voices in attrition brings back older memories that he is content to forget.  
Dwight had said it was a maximum of four people anyway, nothing about a minimum.

He paused when he heard footsteps behind him, turning to see the grizzled old man walking towards him.  
Tamarak still wondered if the man had ever actually been a soldier. He had seen plenty of his comrades dress like this man, and they certainly weren’t soldiers as the mundane world understood them.

“Ace is a god damned coward, trying to make those kids go out there again”  
Tamarak fell into pace next to Bill, nodding at his comment. The aforementioned man was the epitome of a sleezebag, from his wheedling tones to the sunglasses he almost always wore.  
It was perpetually night, why the hell was he wearing glasses but to hide his eyes? Tam had pocketed his own sunglasses when he had reached the fire. Even though the others hadn’t commented on his damaged eyes, wearing sunglasses would have just made it more obvious that he was hiding something.

“Sounds like you were out in a world more like mine than the one those kids talk about”,  
Tamarak quirked an eyebrow as Bill met his gaze.  
“Y’got zombies out there? Where you came from?”  
‘A little bit’, Tam made a gesture with his hands, trying to get the idea across.  
“But not the whole world huh?”  
‘No, but I did kill them’, a shake of his head and then mimicking holding his shotgun. Bill actually cracked a smile, bringing out hard lines around his eyes and showing off yellowed teeth.  
“Well, sounds better than the place I left, maybe I’ll get to visit some day”, the old man barked a bitter laugh as Tamarak smiled and nodded profusely.  
They both paused and looked behind them, sharing a quietly angry look between the two as Claudette and a young Asian man caught up to them.  
Claudette gave Bill a sheepish look and said with a helpless shrug,  
“He got taken upstairs last time, and Tamarak saved me so I figured…”  
Bill simply huffed and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder before moving forward again.. It seemed like there was an argument that Tamarak had missed between the two. His curiosity was confirmed as Jake passed him, muttering:  
“That bleeding heart is going to lead you to more bleeding hearts, ‘Dette”  
“Yes, maybe ones I can fix, Jake Park”

Tamarak made a show of shrugging when her eyes locked on his, her small body rigid as if ready for a fight. He had no interest in taking her on. Especially when he couldn’t argue back.  
Life, he silently bemoaned, would be so much better if he could use one liners.

Slowly, the others disappeared into the mist as the quartet walked. Though, perhaps the more accurate term would be ‘swallowed’. It was substantially thicker than the last time and Tamarak stumbled slightly as forest ground gave way to linoleum floors.  
Well then, apparently they were not going to the corn field again.

Slowly the fog fell away and Tamarak flinched at the tinny sound a scream a few meters away. Cautiously he moved forward, glad that his shoes weren’t squeaking on the floor. Not clean linoleum, then.  
A television was stacked somewhat haphazardly on a hospital bed. It wasn’t plugged in, but static danced merrily across the screen and occasionally the sound of a growl or a scream would come from somewhere within. As far as Tamarak could see it didn’t have speakers to speak of.  
Smirking a bit Tam moved away from what was obviously another set piece. Seriously. One liners. Maybe Gaia didn’t like puns.

It took a lot longer to find a generator in the winding halls. More than once it felt like he had gotten turned around, but damned if he knew how to get back to any of the other halls he had been in. Finally he came across a study. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the mock hospital. Polished wood floors and a bookshelf. A generator stood in one corner, an ugly stowaway in what could otherwise be a very nice room. There was a desk as well, and Tamarak paused as he saw a book lying open on it.  
He had expected squiggles, unintelligible facsimiles of actual language. Tam had expected another set piece and was surprised to instead find a title brazenly scrawled on the first page:  
  
‘The works and findings of H Carter’.  
  
Odd that it was so clear. A cursory examination of the books on the shelf quickly increased his curiosity, as they bore titles made of smudges and scratches. Leaning over the desk Tamarak started to flip through the book, his eyes slowly widening as he continued through.

There were drawings. Human anatomy, electrical diagrams. Various designs for what looked to be devices discharging electricity. Markers and tables for various wattages and resulting behaviours. Clinical notes dotted through the journal:  
  
_"To avoid relapse from our most tenacious subjects, use maximum levels when proceeding with disciplinary actions." -H. Carter_  
  
Tamarak grimaced against the rising bile in his throat. As he continued further into the book the methods became less organized, the writing losing its clinical disconnection until a final note was written across two pages in what looked to be blood. The paper underneath the words was slightly torn and Tamarak wondered what instrument had been used to leave the book’s final message:  
  
_"I CAN SEE THEIR DISGUSTING ILLNESSES ."_

While it was unlike any of Ishibh’s books, it was still a book. Tamarak grimaced as he closed the vile thing and slipped it into his large inner coat pocket. Thankfully it wasn’t too large, but he could examine it later to see if he could channel blood magic through it.  
While he wasn’t anywhere near as practiced as his thaumaturgist friend, Tam had picked up enough to be a hassle in battle with Ishibh’s blood books. Really, in this strange pocket of a world, that was all he needed to be.

Besides the strange screams of the television it had been extremely quiet while Tamarak had read. Finally, as he was kneeling down to work on the generator in the room he heard that same ‘clink’ ring out. Though he had no line of sight, it was clear that someone had gotten a generator completed while he had been wasting time.  
Biting back some of his guilt Tam started to work, hoping to make up for his pilfering by getting this one done before whatever killer found his comrades.  
The generator’s pistons were merrily pumping along when his ears picked up a new noise. It was strange, sounding a little bit like the Hell machines that shot out pools of purple electricity and light. A constant whine of a charge before the telltale sound of crackling discharge.  
His generator finally bustled to life, but his moment of satisfaction was cut short by a scream that tore through the air.  
That wasn’t a scream from a television.

Without a second thought Tamarak charged off, hopping over a window ledge (why was there a window inside of a building?) and sprinting towards where the scream had come from.  
As focused as he was on finding what had sounded like an extremely distressed Jake, Tamarak entirely did not expect the body that collided with him, knocking him into a corner and then holding him down as that telltale heartbeat started in his ears.  
His confused eyes met Bill’s, which glared at him as a furious finger was laid over Bill’s mouth.  
Tam quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at the man before motioning to his throat.  
The old soldier let out a frustrated hiss before moving into a squat and crawling away. Jake hadn’t screamed again and apparently Bill wasn’t keen on finding the young man. Tamarak followed the survivor’s lead, figuring that the others knew more about surviving this killer than Tam did.

Tense moments of cautious running and a lot of crawling ended with them working on another generator. There hadn’t been any others done as they had moved and now Tam wondered if they weren’t moving as quickly because this killer required a lot more fleeing from. Between the two of them the generator was completed quickly, and Bill moved off at a silent lope. Heavy footsteps and the quiet thumping in his ears had Tamarak slipping through another windowsill and waiting. Hopefully the killer would move off after seeing that nobody remained at the generator.  
Too concerned with his cautious view of the oncoming killer, Tamarak didn’t noticed the flicker of electricity under his feet. He frowned and leaned forward as he started to hear whispers the closer the killer came.  
They sounded… familiar? Holding his breath, he leaned closer, trying to make out the words.  
The urge came from nowhere, more alien than the pounding heartbeat in his ears, but Tamarak suddenly gripped his head as the exhalation of air ripped out of his mouth.  
His vocal chords fought with all their mundane might to make it a scream, but his silence remained blessedly consistent. A face jarred across his vision, all eyes and teeth and metal. A monster. The monster, their resident killer.

Moving away as quickly as his quaking limbs could scramble, Tamarak now understood where Jake’s scream had come from. Why Bill didn’t want Tam running right towards where the killer might be. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten a real chance to see the thing before the adrenaline had kicked in and sent him running. He shook in a corner, madly trying to will away the flight instinct his body seemed to be locked in. It was like tugging on the reins of a terrified horse, ultimately useless as the beast careened around. He had briefly spotted Claudette and Jake working on a generator, but in his currently shaking state he didn’t want to set the generator off and bring the killer to them.  
His vision jittered as he took in a ragged breath. His throat was sore now, from the now multiple failed attempts at screaming. The most that had come out was an hollow rattle, but his vocal chords felt raw. Given that he hadn’t tried to use them in over a year they were justifiably upset at being abused all of a sudden.

After a few minutes of sitting still in a quieter corner of the hospital Tamarak finally felt like he could work on a generator without wanting to puke all over it.  
He had heard the sound of another generator starting, which meant there was only one more to go. He had passed one by a room full of bathtubs a little while ago, but in his panicked state he hadn’t really noted where that was.  
Moving was better than staying still. Staying still increased the chances of bumping into the killer. Given the electricity, Tam was inclined to guess the killer was ‘H Carter’. Though, it would be odd for this one to have a name when the last one was simply called ‘The Huntress’.  
Maybe the survivors had their own name for the madness inducing killer.

After more tense minutes of wandering he finally caught sight of Jake, having just rounded a corner. It seemed like he was moving towards the big red exits signs, showing the same quaking symptoms that Tamarak himself was experiencing. The blue haired man followed after the other, hoping they could reunite quietly and Tam could figure out what the hell Jake was doing. There was another generator left, why was he going to what was assumedly the exit?  
He found the younger man crouched behind a skip outside, crouched and gripping his head. Tam intentionally put down a heavy footfall and Jake jerked to look at him, relaxing for a moment before freezing, his face pulling into such intense fear that Tamarak didn’t even pause to make a joke of being offended.  
He turned around, ready to fight whatever Jake had seen, only to pause in confusion. There was nothing there, just a buzzing television next to a tauntingly empty vending machine. Turning back, now annoyed at what was assumedly a prank, Tam paused as Jake continued to stare at whatever it was. For a moment Tamarak wondered if something had broken the man before Jake let out blood curdling scream.  
It was so much louder when you were right next to him. That lovely panic response started to kick in, his own instead of some strange adrenaline rush, and Tamarak pushed Jake into a corner while he felt his hands and feet turn cold.  
Blood running to his torso in fear. Because it’s not like his hands needed that or anything. However, it was a fear response that he knew and, even better, knew how to deal with.  
As he moved back into the hospital to try and head off the killer Tam heard the final clink and resounding howl that indicated all the generators had been turned on. The sound of a lever being pulled behind him felt too loud in the still quiet hospital, the televisions suddenly silent and dark in the face of the group’s success.  
As the lights atop the gate’s mechanism started to light up Jake let out another petrified scream and Tamarak winced, reaching into himself to channel his mana through the Huntress’ mask that was still tied to his back. If the heartbeats in his ears were any indication, a fight was coming.

For a few moments Tamarak was able to attempt to process the thing heading with single minded purpose towards Jake and the Gate. He had been off to the left and apparently having metal forceps keeping your eyes open was bad for line of sight. The grizzled hulk walked right past him.  
He wished once again that he could talk. Yelling the thing’s real name would have been so satisfying.  
Hell, even yanking this thing back the way the Huntress had would be satisfying, but he opted instead to play with his food a bit.  
Grabbing an empty can from the ground Tamarak threw it at the killer’s head as hard as he could.  
He needed to buy Jake some time to open that door. So buy him time he would.  
It seemed the head harness had not diminished Carter’s tactile senses, as he spun around upon impact. For a moment there was little more that Tamarak could do but grimace at Carter’s face. The skin that covered his head was either grey or blue, in various stages of bruising and what looked to be decay.  
Honestly, Tamarak was surprised he hadn’t smelt the killer before hearing him. Skin like that should reek.  
Metal tubes wound their way down and, in some cases, through Carter’s arms. Amusingly, the least noteworthy part of the thing was the spiked metal baton gripped in one hand. It didn’t look like anything Tamarak could use, but he had already pilfered the man’s medical text. That was enough for one trial.  
While he had been looking Carter over, Tamarak had been receiving a similar kind of inspection. Between the filth ridden veins on his face, his grey sclera and the way his hands had started pulsing green and purple, Tam wondered if he looked like he could be a fellow monster.  
A metallic giggle rang out between the slightly open teeth and Tam braced himself as he watched Carter grip his left fist. That charging whine sounded out, evidently Carter could charge up and release the electricity at will.

Tam wondered if the fist thing was for dramatics or if it was actually needed.

As the first tones of discharge sounded Tamarak slammed a foot back into a more martial arts like pose, calling upon Chaos. There wasn’t even a moment’s pause between the awful feeling of his muscles tensing up all over from the current and the sudden feeling of spikes ripping into his skin. Carter let out a furious howl, laying out a series of blows and gashes that healed over almost as quickly as he could bludgeon them into Tamarak’s body.  
Unmoving, simply taking the assault and waiting for his Immutability to wear off, Tamarak’s expression turned to feral glee when he heard the exit gate buzzer go off behind the killer. His grin only grew as an answering buzzer rang out somewhere else in the arena and his friends hopefully ran for their lives.

It had really only been thirty seconds, but the spiked baton still hurt like a bitch. As soon as Tamarak felt his feet shift underneath him he reached up and used a hand to stop and grab the awful thing before it hit him again.  
Now that he was no longer immutable that terror was welling up in him again. That desperate urge to scream. That desire to run.  
Pushing the baton roughly to the side Tamarak gave into the urge. As he passed through the exit gate one final scream tried to make its way out of his mouth. It failed as all of them had, but it felt slightly different outside of the hospital.  
His scream had made no noise, but something had heard it all the same.


	3. Tamarak and the Wraith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to user Edgy, who requested more of this and gave me ideas on how to continue. I've now plotted out each killer, including the Clown, and will try to update when I can :)
> 
> There's a couple instances of sign language in this, I did my best to not over or under describe it. I also tried to keep it accurate with what little I know of ASL.
> 
> I'm not super happy with how this chapter turned out, but I wanted to actually get something out without worrying about it being 'perfect'. Any constructive criticism is appreciated.

The time between trials is short, but Claudette becomes a fast friend in their downtime. She shares journals with him, words from previous survivors that are reminiscent of some of the Orochi writings he had found over the years. Humans trying to understand the supernal, learning to master what small parts of it they could. It seemed though that while Benedict Baker tried to quantify and understand the strange place they are in that it was the witch Vigo who learned to exert her will over it.

The shrouds and strange jars that are sometimes cast into the fire are apparently her creations. Though, Tamarak tries not to think about where all the lips came from. Nobody else talks about it, and he’s not really in a position to ask.

Tamarak hasn’t gone to a trial in a while. There are lots of survivors and he’s been given some leeway since he took two trials as soon as he ended up here. However, it’s clear that it’s his turn when the strange winds pick up and several pairs of eyes turn to him. With the Huntress’ mask tied to his back and Carter’s Notes secured in his pocket he stands with three others to go to a trial. Before Ace leaves he casually tosses a purple bottle into the flame, which flares briefly in recognition of the item being offered to the trial.  
If the shared smirks are anything to go by, he and Dwight are planning something as they both grab a flashlight apiece before moving into the forest.  
Tam doesn’t bother checking who else comes in, it really doesn’t matter. The others are very attentive to the schedule of who goes next, but he’s much more intent on figuring out how to kill the thing that has them all trapped.

The Secret World is waiting for him, and he suspects that Daimon Kiyota will have his balls for disappearing for so long. If anyone could figure out how to permanently kill one of Gaia’s chosen, Tam figures it would be a force of nature like Kiyota.

The transition is much slower this time. Before he had simply turned to find himself out of the forest and in very different locations. This time, the mud creeps slowly up. Trees twisting and dying while reeds spring up and the awful stench of a particularly rancid bog hits Tamarak’s nose.  
The fog is so dense he can barely see five feet in front of himself, and Tam wonders if he has Ace to thank for it. He should have asked Claudette before he left, but he can ask when he gets back just as easily.

The screaming of crows draws his attention to the East, and he can barely make out the hulking form of a ship in the distance. Rather than head towards the racket, he’s figured that noise is a quick way to draw the attention of the Killers, he wanders aimlessly.  
Finally, after what feels like far too long, he hears the sound of someone working on a generator. Dwight barely glances at him when he crouches down to help, too busy swivelling his head around to see if anything is coming.

Tamarak hears the thing before he sees it. Or, rather, sees the lack of it. It’s a tall space that blurs and shifts, slowly making its way towards them. It’s breathing is ragged, every inhalation sounds like it’s pulling on a throat full of scars and phlegm. Dwight appears unconcerned by the beast coming ever closer, so Tam takes his lead and works as quickly as he can to get the generator finished. Maybe this one isn’t as bad as the other two? It doesn’t even inspire the alien heartbeats to warn them of its presence.

With a resounding clink the generator roars to life and Tamarak prepares to run, stopping only because of the hand that grips his wrist. Dwight has that nasty smirk on his face, flashlight in his other hand as the sound of a bell rings out in the night.

Whispers of wind whip around them and the thing seems to burning itself into existence when Dwight flicks the flashlight on and points it at the killer. The roar of pain as it flinches away from the light is almost enough to make Tamarak sad for the creature.

Almost.

Dwight is off like a shot, but Tam has found his next piece of weaponry. While the bell itself is largely useless, the skull perched on top of it could probably be used as an elemental focus. Or he could just be wasting his time and is going to piss off this thing.

While the Huntress and the Doctor were both quite broad and muscled, this thing is skinny in comparison. Its legs end in bare feat and, even under layers of mud and paint, the Killer’s face seems awfully delicate. All in all, it definitely appears to be more stealth based. His inspection concludes by meeting the shining white eyes of the creature, which seems to be inspecting him with equal curiosity and a touch more wariness.

He supposes he makes for quite an image. His bright blue hair and too grey skin definitely sets him apart from the others. As familiar green and purple light gathers in his hands, Tam wonders if the Killers can communicate. Did the rabbit lady and the walking dentistry example warn the others?  
He hopes not.

The Wraith, he is told it’s name later by a shivering Quintin, makes a couple of half hearted swings as Tamarak walks forward.  
‘Don’t worry buddy, I just need to borrow that bell of yours. Not sure whose skull that is, but I figure I can use some wire and make a nice little effigy with it’

He wishes he could talk. He hasn’t wished he could talk this much in years.

His attempt to grab the bell results in him being neatly scooped up onto the Killer’s shoulder and promptly being hung on the nearest hook.  
Really, he should have used some magic to grab the bell, but the Wraith is deceiving in it’s unwillingness to outright hurt him. It disappears with a few mournful clangs of the bell and Tam fights to see the shape move off into the fog. He’s not sure if it’s waiting for someone to try and save him or if the clang of a generator in the distance was enough to draw it away.

Turns out it was their favourite resident zombie hunter who had completed their quartet. Bill slides out of the brush quiet as you please and helps Tam off the hook before they run to a safer spot to heal him.  
With the power of Gaia’s bees Tam heals on his own, but it’s a lot slower when it’s a large amount of damage. There’s some irony that another survivor heals him faster than the bees that have kept him alive for so long, but Tamarak doubts they would be able to do so outside of this realm.  
Here they play by their captor’s rules.

Tam is healed up and Bill has started to skulk away when the Wraith finds them again. This time Tamarak uses a quickly cast chaos chain to snag the bell away after the thing materializes and he’s off like a shot after that.

It’s a depressingly short chase. He’s cornered and bleeding while the Wraith growls at him. His friend has followed along, and Tam can see the old man had started to move out of cover to try and stun the Wraith with a pallet.

‘Wait’, he desperately signs to Bill and the creature tilts it’s head to the side as his hands move. Tam watches in cautious elation as it places it’s axe on a log next to it and holds up it’s hands.  
‘You know sign language?’, the movements are jerky, as if the Wraith is unused to attempting communication.  
A smile grows on Tam’s face as he excitedly moves his fist up and down,  
‘Yes!’

For a moment, both of them are still, as if trying to figure out what to do with this information. Bill is looking at him like he’s nuts, and the hammering of the foreign heartbeat in his ears is exceptionally distracting.  
Explanations never hurt, maybe this creature can give him some answers if he can talk to it enough.  
‘I’m mute’, he gestures to himself before moving his fist towards his mouth, ‘even outside of trials’.  
‘My mother was deaf’, the Wraith signs to him after a long pause. Another generator clinks to life in the distance. They both turn to look in the direction of the noise and Tamarak counts that as three generators complete.  
‘I must go, if I do not catch someone I will be punished’, the moment of connection is about to break and Tamarak quickly moves forward, signing desperately for the Wraith to wait.  
He later wonders if loneliness always outweighs fear of punishment. How quickly enemies become allies in the face of crushing solitude.  
  
‘My name is Tam’ he spells it out, cautious hope all over his face. He’s trying to be expressive in the hopes this creature actually understands human emotion.  
‘Phillip’ is quickly signed out before the axe is in hand once more and the Wraith reaches out for the bell by Tam’s feet. It’s a request, and for a moment he thinks to deny this monster it’s power. Except he has a hunch now, and if he’s right then he needs to stay friends with this thing.

Besides, he stashed the skull by an exit gate, he’s got what he came here for.

Bill has scarpered by this point, and Tamarak is sort of glad that his friend isn’t around to see what will likely be viewed as a betrayal. Placing the bell in Phillip’s hand, the young man smiles up at the beast. Was there really a person in there? A human like them, twisted by time and eldritch horrors?

After that, the trial is business as usual. Ace gets hooked twice and Dwight barely manages to crawl out of the exit gate as the Wraith crows in triumph over the dropped flashlight at the gate.

Bill will have questions, Tam knows that, but after spending so long in a Killer’s presence his body is exhausted from the constant adrenaline rush. As soon as they’re back to the campfire he’s found a tree to nod off against and no one bothers to stop him.


End file.
